You

So you–

you–

want to write a poem?

 

Start by walking out your front door

and saying hello to every face you meet:

bird in the sky,

leaf on the lawn,

a summer wind falling gently over you

and you still–

still–

want to write a poem?

 

After an over-worked day at the office

gray cubicles and clear ice cubes clinking

on paper cups I just want to make sure

I’ve heard you right:

you,

who wakes up every morning

just to paint the sunrise;

you,

who tallies ticket orders

and buys Christmas presents,

builds log cabins

and feeds the homeless;

you

who has ever wondered

what your place is on this Earth–

you

want to write a poem?

 

The Earth hears your beckoning,

is waiting for you

to open up

open the door to your soul

and realize that man-made

will always have its limits…

the mountain peak will always

surpass Mountain Dew

and wild thoughts fall flat

onto to the blue horizon,

spread out like a quilt

nature made just for you.

 

Hear it whisper,

my dear,

that beating in your heart.

 

You mustn’t

simply

write a poem.

 

You are the poem.

 

December 9, 2015

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Pen and Paper

The connection

of paper on pen

makes me want

to believe again

in life,

in love.

 

If two souls

can touch

so silently

and still leave

such a mark,

what is to come

of us, my dear?

 

I can deny fate

like sinners laugh at God;

I can wake at dawn

and see only moon, not sun.

 

We can wander forever,

looking for the ink–

the touch of pen on paper,

a love that saves, not sinks.

 

November 5, 2015

My Sister and I

A few seconds left

of number nine

waiting for now…

if it comes.

Yes, it’s here

I rush out of there

to my place,

where I can be alone-

but no,

there’s still that raincloud

above me whenever I’m there,

when the sun sets

and the moon glows

that dragon is under me.

When sunlight fills my window

she is over me;

When I am anywhere,

she’s there.

Bur if she wasn’t…

I wouldn’t.

If she disappeared in the moonlight

I’d be the cloud,

lifting her up

and although we’d be gone…

we’d be together, forever.


September, 2004
I wrote this poem in seventh grade amd recently found it in a long-lost journal.